


I'm dying just to hurt you

by FancifulRivers



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aborted No Mercy Route, Angst and Feels, Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Spoilers - No Mercy Route, Violence, resetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>You're a monster...</i>
</p>
<p>Chara isn't sure what fresh hell this is, but they want out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm dying just to hurt you

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Undertale.
> 
> Triggering for violence/mentions of character death.

You don't know what god you pissed off, but you wish you could apologize. You force your way upright, back creaking, legs trembling. You're sure your ribs are broken, they hurt too much otherwise. Frisk is curled up in some far reach of your mind, whimpering because this fresh pain is enough to wake even them up from the self-induced stupor.

You feel like a puppet as you take a step forward, then another, knife raised. The skeleton at the end of the hall smiles, eye sparking ghost blue.

It's not fair, but life's never been fair for you, has it? You remember nights spent in a garden shed, raised voices and desultory kicks aimed your way. They didn't look for you when you ran away. You hid in a nearby tree for nearly three days, watching. Hoping. They didn't even call the police. Hope died in your heart that day and you don't think you ever got it back.

It tried to breathe its way back into life when you fell and Asriel found you. You'd been trying to die. There wasn't any point to living anymore and let's face it, a ten-year-old kid, no matter how wary and street-savvy, can't survive that easy on their own.

You should have died. Everything that happened after was what you'd always wanted the afterlife to be. Warmth and butterscotch pie and hugs and coloring under the caring eyes of someone who loved you and when you ran away down there, Toriel and Asgore found you within an hour, and Asriel hugged you so tight, you nearly lost your breath. They were good and they were perfect and they're dead now, they're all dead, you killed them, and you don't even know  _why_.

_To see what happens,_ but why? You don't understand yourself. You lunge by reflex, away from Sans' next attack. You're so tired. You just want to lie down on the floor and give up. You don't want him to spare you. You don't deserve that. You just want to lie down and die, even if you take Frisk with you. What's one more death? What's one more drop of blood on your scarred, dusty hands?

But even if you do, you know you'll just open your eyes and be right back here, bloodstained knife trembling in a broken fist. So many deaths and you can recount them all. Their names might as well be engraved on your damned knife. It used to be such a comfort to you. It had drank your own blood long before you'd ever hooked it through someone else. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe your own hope had turned on you. The damned edge was even still sharp.

_I want to stop,_ you plead, but nobody hears you. You trip over a bone, landing hard on the floor as Sans' magic flings you against a wall like a rag doll. You hear more bones crunch inside you, and blood bubbles at your mouth. For a moment, you expect to taste buttercups.

_Chara, what have you done?_ You cough, feeling things stab and scrape together in places nothing ever should. You don't want to get up again. Some malign force jerks you to your feet anyway, and your knife slashes out once more, tears sliding down your face as you laugh and laugh and laugh. 

Blue fills your vision and you collapse to the ground like a puppet with the strings snipped.  _Not again,_ you think, muzzy, darkness seeping into your head, blood filming your eyes as Sans leans down, face stretched in a parody of a grin. It's the last thing you see.

You open your eyes. You're face-down in a patch of golden flowers, pollen heavy in your nostrils. Frisk stirs, staring around you in confusion. For a moment, you feel an overwhelming sense of guilt nearly crush you into powder, then it's gone.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, tears and snot streaming down your face. You don't know who you're talking to, but you're not sure it matters. "Sorry sorry sorry-" You rock, burrowing into the flowers, barely conscious that you must be above your own grave. 

_It's okay, Chara,_ Frisk murmurs. They sound exhausted and fresh guilt stabs you, splintering through your body like another mouthful of buttercup petals.  _You didn't mean to-_

_Yes, I did,_ you interrupt. Your knife is gone and that would have angered you before, but now you only feel a flood of relief.  _It's my fault, I killed everyone, I killed EVERYONE, I'm a MONSTER-_

_You didn't kill Sans,_ Frisk points out. You stop, shivering, pressing yourself into the dirt as though if you try hard enough, you can entomb yourself.

"Mom," you whimper pitifully, the feeling of her dust on your hands suddenly so overpowering, you nearly throw up into the flowers.

"That's it," Frisk takes over the vocal cords, gently pushing you to one side as they manage to stand, swaying a little on their feet. "We're going."

_Where?_ you demand. Frisk smiles. The stretch of your lips feels unfamiliar.

"Toriel's," they answer, leaning down and giving the slightly crushed flower patch a gentle pat. 

_But what if-_ you can't finish the thought, can't even articulate it to yourself. Frisk shakes their head. 

"It will be fine," they reassure you. "I promise."

**Author's Note:**

> ...I kind of viewed this like the Player deciding to abort the no mercy run while facing Sans because they just couldn't keep doing it, so they end up completely resetting, but Chara and Frisk still remember what happened.


End file.
